


You seem like a very nice person.

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Corm has a nice bum!, Corm looks sexy asleep, Cormoran looking after her, F/M, Fluff, Robin speaks a litte freely, a lovely unexpected kiss, and snoring, and taking up most of the bed!, come on.....we'd do the same!, drugged up Robin, even when he's drooling, it really is very sweet, it's really very sweet, keeping his equilibrium under control manfully!, little bit of Corm canon swearing, pre relationship pining, she's had an operation, the meds loosen her tongue a little, very sweet indeed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: So, I did a re-read of LulaIsAKitten's First Kiss called 'It's too soon' which is based on a slightly drugged up Strike admitting his feelings for Robin and ends in a lovely kiss....I decided to be inspired by it and flip it round.





	1. Chapter one or maybe just 'it'

Strike was trying to remain focused on manoeuvring the BMW through the London street furniture, traffic and pedestrians, but was finding it increasingly difficult given that his partner’s fingers were now wriggling their way rather persistently across his chest, finding the gaps between the buttons of his green shirt.  
In another situation he’d have been rapturous with the attention she was bestowing on him…however driving was taxing enough in itself…..plus he was acutely aware that he needed to ensure she didn’t pass out or puke.  
“Robin!.....Robin…..can you stop that!” his voice was firm and roughly commanding and he’d removed his left hand from the steering wheel in order to physically wrestle her determined fingers from where they had trailed towards his trouser fly.  
He was able to push her ridiculously floppy body across to the passenger side door with his hand on her shoulder, and glanced over, forgetting instantly to be cross, as he saw her pouting mouth, glassy expression and wrinkled nose.  
“You’re jus’ aspoilsport!” she slurred, grasping out for his hand as he removed it from her body to return it to the wheel and turn the car towards Robin’s flat.

He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he was being a good friend, and she needed him, and the fact that she was suffering from the after effects of a drug induced coma was what he needed to focus on…..not the fact that she was being quite delightfully flirty and vulnerable.   
She was clearly not in control or aware of her behaviour….he was the chemically balanced one right now and he needed to remember that and not take advantage.

Robin’s routine little op to have her shoulder reset into place had been as a result of trying to catch him when he’d lost his footing and overbalanced when they were unsuccessfully trailing a client as a fake couple.  
Ilsa and Nick were away for a wedding - one of Ilsa’s colleagues and they were staying over at the country house at which it was taking place – and Robin needed someone to accompany her and watch over her whilst the effects of the sedative anaesthetic wore off.   
Strike had felt guilty enough about Robin’s discomfort, especially since he’d come out of the situation with only a scratched hip, so he’d offered without a second thought about what the role might actually entail.

He was now beginning to have second thoughts, especially as Robin was mumbling vaguely about “feeling hot” and unfastening the buttons on her blouse.

“Fucking shit…...Robin! Can you stop doing that please,” he hissed, executing a double take that could have formed part of a Jim Dale Carry On sketch as the creamy coloured lace of her bra became visible.

“I’m just really….reaaaaallly hot…..you know what it’s like….when you just get all hot,” and much to his blasphemous mumbling she continued her attempts to remove her blouse.   
The fact that she was wearing a jacket over it seemed to be enough to flummox her, so she slumped back against the passenger window.

At the next set of traffic lights he tweaked his neck and summoned the calmness in his equilibrium required to glance casually across at his partner. He huffed an amused smile at the sight.   
She was breathing onto the passenger window creating a foggy ‘screen’ into which she was drawing a love heart pierced by an arrow.  
Her hair was ruffled, her eyes decidedly unfocussed, her lips parted and pouting….plus her entire, smooth torso and tiny, indented belly button was on display. 

“I’m cold now,” she mumbled, glancing down at her appearance, “I can see my boobs!” she giggled and prodded the creamy mounds visible above the cups of her bra, “YOU can see them too….they’re here, look! You seem like a very nice person.”

From the driver’s seat Strike was now having difficulty dragging his eyes anywhere else, he made a valiant effort though, grinning at her use of a phrase which he knew from a number of ‘morning after’ conversations he used to describe her when he was himself drunk “I can indeed see….far too much I think Robin, so maybe you should…….erm, do your top up?”  
“The zip’s broke,” she answered, picking up the zip on her jacket in one hand and the button placket of her blouse in the other and aimlessly trying to twist them together, “Jus’ so complicated.”  
“You can say that again,” he mumbled as he followed the vehicles in front of him around the right filter at the lights and turned into the road containing Robin’s flat.

Parking was always a nightmare, but thankfully he spotted a large enough space not too far away from her building and efficiently parked the BMW before inhaling and twisting to see Robin still struggling to attach the zip and buttons together.

“It’s not…urgh…it's jus' so hard…..c’n you help me? You’re a very nice person!”

He sighed as he shook his head, “How much fucking anaesthetic did they give you? Come on…oh God, let me sort this out,” and he somewhat nervously dragged the two sides of her blouse together and managed to control his large fingers to get two of the small, pearl buttons through the correct button holes.  
Robin stared down at him as he worked before raising her fuzzy grey eyes to ‘approximately’ his green ones….he had a feeling she could probably see several sets looking back at her!  
“S’not usual is it?....Putting ‘em back on…….think you’re prob’ly better at the other bit,” and she wagged her finger roughly in his direction with a ridiculous grin on her face. “My friend Corm’rn looks like you.” 

Strike couldn’t contain himself any longer and chuckled as he pointedly propped her up against the door, “Stay there, I’m getting out and coming round to get you, OK?” He waited for her to give a firm nod of her head, uttering the phrase, “Yes doctor,” followed by her making a deep ‘oooohhh’ sound and grasping her forehead.

Strike exited his door and grabbed Robin’s small holdall from the back seat before moving around to the passenger side. Robin was still diligently propped up staring across at the steering wheel and he tapped on the glass so as not to startle her.

As he tugged on the door handle she slid back with it forcing Strike to hastily push her back to prevent her falling onto the pavement.

“OK, right…erm….I need to get you up to your flat….and open the door,” he regarded the hundred metres or so of pavement leading up to her building and then thought about the 2 flights of stairs up to her flat once there.

Robin lazily smiled, “This is a very good service from the NHS…I mean, I didn’t expect a doctor to bring me home,” she sighed, "And not even a ambulance, a proper car!"  
Cormoran couldn’t help but shake his head at his work colleague’s completely zonked out state….clearly she thought he was the doctor who had operated on her, and for his own sanity perhaps it was easier to let her think that.

“Well, I’m here to make sure you’re safe Robin, but I need to get you inside,” he stated, grasping both of her hands after stretching across her to unclip her seat belt.  
Robin hummed, “You smell a bit like my friend Corm’rn. He’s a very nice person too….like you, you’re a very nice person.”  
“So you’ve said,” Strike grinned, gently but firmly coaxing her body around and swinging her legs out of the footwell to rest on the kerbside.

“Am I going back on the wheely bed?” she asked, as if the information about moving and going inside had just caught up with her fuzzy brain.

Cormoran pulled her upright, shuffling her body slightly towards the right so that he could close the car door behind her with most of her weight resting on the side of the vehicle, “No…not a wheely bed this time because we need to go up stairs,” he patiently explained.

The only method he could reasonably envisage working was to give her a ‘fireman’s lift’ over his left shoulder – that way he’d have his hands relatively free to deal with the doors and her bag, plus he’d be able to balance his weight out better if she was draped over his full leg side.

“I’m going to carry you Robin, OK?” he waited a fraction of a second but shook his head, stifling his laughter as she mumbled a rather subdued, “Ok doctor,” and made to lift her arms like a small child wishing to be picked up.  
Ducking down he settled his shoulder into the firm softness of her tummy, pressed her back across his shoulders and wrapped a firm, splayed palm around her calf to hoist her up safely.  
She wasn’t particularly heavy and he stabilised his weight and balance point easily before dipping fractionally to pick up her holdall. 

He already had a set of keys to her flat; something which he’d been poignantly thrilled about when she’d handed them to him after moving in; although this would be the first time he’d actually used them.

“You OK?” he asked as he started making his way along the pavement. He was careful to keep up conversation, mentioning the words hospital and after care and anaesthetic more than was strictly necessary, but hoping it would pacify some of the intrigued passers by.

Robin allowed herself to dangle over his shoulder, stroking the lining of his jacket between her thumb and finger as if it was some form of security blanket.  
Strike tackled the outer door and got them inside the quiet communal hallway.  
Part way up the stairs Robin gave a slight snigger, “I’m glad I’m not on the wheely bed because this bit would be very bumpy,” she stated.  
Strike sniggered along with her, “Ellacott, even in the depths of a drug induced coma you have irrefutable logic.”

He heard and felt Robin start to giggle almost uncontrollably, “What? I’m not that witty!” he panted slightly – 2 flights of stairs was taxing enough on his knee without the added issue of a languid, dead-weight female draped across his back.  
“I said bumpy……and that’s got bum in it….and you’ve got a bum…it’s here,” and she lifted the back section of his jacket before prodding his right buttock purposefully with her index finger. 

Strike sniggered and inhaled sharply as her prodding turned into a cupping, stroking action and she sighed charmingly.  
“You’ve got a very nice bottom, doctor…..but it’s not as nice as my friend Corm’rn’s bottom…..but don’t tell ‘im….’cos he doesn’t think I’ve seen it,” she loudly whispered the second half of the statement.

Strike reminded himself that Robin was clearly in some weird, fantasy land where she believed him to be someone else…..so it was equally likely that she was talking bollocks too.  
He allowed her hand to continue it’s firm caress of his backside – to be fair there was very little he could do to stop her given that he had her bag in one hand and was gripping her wriggling leg with the other.

“My bottom’s nice, doctor. Don’t you think it’s nice? Feel it…go on, doctor……it’s not as nice as yours…..but it’s very nice and peachy,” she garbled, causing Strike to stifle his laughter by twisting his face against her hip.  
“Oh Robin….you’re so zonked,” he murmured, trying to focus on turning down the hallway without knocking her feet against the fire alarm emergency switch. “And I have absolutely no doubts about the complete peachiness of your arse!”

“I have looked at my friend Corm’rn’s bottom though…..when he gets the milk out of the fridge…..I look at it, doctor….and it looks really lovely….and then, then…..sometimes, I think I might jus’ bite it….” she trailed off slightly into a hum which reverberated through his chest.

He’d managed to get them both to her flat and wrestled with the slightly sticky key to get them inside. He made his way through the familiar layout towards her bedroom.   
He’d never used his own set of keys, but he’d been in Robin’s flat quite a lot since she moved in; initially as part of invited catch ups with the Herberts, but more and more frequently just at the end of a working day when they were closer to her flat than the office and his own.   
They would often share take out, or Robin would cook and they’d watch telly together before making their goodbyes.

This was another reason why he hadn’t frozen at the prospect of taking care of her after the minor operation. They seemed to have developed a good relationship that was pretty healthy and easy going, so taking her shoes off and sticking her in bed whilst watching over her from the comfy chair beside it was not something which caused him concern.  
The fact that Robin was clearly way more affected by the cocktail of drugs she’d been given for her operation gave him a minor wobble, but again he reminded himself that she wasn’t in control, whereas he was and needed to be!

“Right…..straight to bed for you I think!” he growled as he flopped Robin down on her double bed.  
She made a soft whimpering sound as her head made contact with the familiar scented softness of her duvet.   
Strike carefully lifted her ankles to pivot her onto the mattress and unzipped her black, suede boots before slipping each one from her feet. He marvelled momentarily at how small her besocked feet were, stroking his finger against the delicate arch and causing her to flinch.

“I’m thirsty,” Robin whimpered, pouting up at Cormoran’s face.  
“OK, help me get your jacket off and I’ll make you some tea,” he replied, sliding his hand beneath her back and lifting her ragdoll-like body up so that he could drag the garment from her. “Can you get into bed and I’ll put the kettle on?”

Strike glanced over at her as he reached the door into the lounge and kitchen. She was hitching up her knees and burrowing her legs under the duvet.  
When he returned with tea for them both she had evidently managed to get her jeans off as they were messily discarded beside the bed.  
He made her sit up as he placed both mugs on her bedside cabinet. 

Robin glanced over at them and made a loud ‘aaaawwwwww’ sound.  
Cormoran perched on the side of the bed and tilted the handle on the paler coloured brew towards her.  
“It’s hot,” he warned her as she cradled it between both hands and blew across the top; a little too forcefully and creating a mini tsunami before sipping a little into her mouth.  
“My friend Corm’rn likes tea that colour….like your one, not like my one. He likes all strong tea…..I think that’s b’cus he’s all strong,” she gabbled.

Strike regarded his mug, smirking, “Are you claiming my tea preference is a metaphor?”  
Robin gave him an endearingly befuddled gaze, “….I’m not sure,” she whispered, wrinkling her nose and sipping more tea. “He’s just strong, doctor…and he’s a very nice person….like you, making me tea. So kind.”

Cormoran watched as she drank then noticed her eyelids begin to close.  
He gently reached across and lifted the almost empty mug from her hands which continued to clutch at each other as if it was still present.   
“I think you should probably get some sleep Robin.”

He placed both mugs onto the cabinet and gently lifted the duvet to encourage her to slip down beneath it more comfortably.  
She lay down and he smiled at the sight of her relaxed, smooth cheeks and her amber hair spilling across the pillows.  
He transferred his weight, preparing to stand but paused as Robin’s flailing hand found his arm.  
“Don’t leave…..stay here and I’ll tell you all about my friend Corm’rn…and his lovely bottom.”

In all honesty she looked like she would fall to sleep within seconds, so he cleared his throat and stayed where he was, fidgeting slightly with the edge of the duvet. “Go on then, tell me all about him…..he sounds like an annoying pain in the arse!”  
Robin giggled into her pillow slightly, “He isn’t…” she yawned loudly and snuggled herself further into the pillows, “He’s wonderful,” she whispered, taking a deep inhalation.  
Cormoran allowed himself the complete indulgence of staring at her as her features became soft and her breathing even.  
“I think you’re wonderful too,” he murmured huskily, trailing the tips of his fingers delicately to tuck a strand of her hair away from her eyes.


	2. Taking full advantage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, I have been swayed by the comments and my own 'second thoughts' and original notes.  
> So this is a little extra where Robin becomes more lucid than Strike thinks...and both take a little bit of advantage of the situation they are in.

He removed the boot from his left foot, but kept his leg attached – just in case he needed to move quickly if Robin needed something - and shuffled next to her on the bed, taking care to ensure that the cover acted both as a barrier to them, and also ensured that Robin remained toasty.

He flicked through his phone and checked emails from Barclay, plus there were a couple from Nick and Ilsa asking whether Robin was OK after her operation. He sent replies to both of them before swiping onto a word challenge game he’d discovered….actually Robin had introduced him to it….but he’d become rather an expert and enjoyed focussing his brain onto the various tasks set each day.   
He whizzed through several levels, pausing momentarily on a rather interesting one involving synonyms. 

As the next challenge loaded up his thoughts flicked back to Robin’s behaviour earlier in the evening.   
He knew she was acting under the influence of drugs, but he couldn’t help himself hoping that maybe some of the things she’d said could be true.

His apparently fabulous and biteable arse aside she’d said she thought he was wonderful. 

He really, really wished she’d say something like that to him without the aid of drugs.

His eyelids suddenly felt heavy; Robin was gently snoring beside him, still curled on her side so he settled himself a little further back onto the pillows, still sitting upright and told himself he’d just rest his eyes for a few moments.

Robin became aware of a rumbling sound and a heaviness beside her when she opened her eyes some time later.   
She recognised the slightly smoky, spicy aroma of Cormoran before she lifted her head and saw him slumped against the bedframe and pillows next to her.  
He looked somewhat precariously perched and she noticed his ‘unmatching feet’ – one booted, one sporting a thick, red-marl sock.

Her head felt slightly fuzzy, but clear enough for her to recall that she’d had an anaesthetic and her shoulder set back into place after a few painful days of it being in a sling.   
She was aware that there was no pain in her shoulder now and she wriggled it around a little as she sat up in her bed, dragging her messy hair away from her face with her other hand.

Strike continued to snore loudly beside her, his uneven lips fractionally parted, but his face looking soft and completely boyish despite the 4 day stubble on his chin.  
Robin became aware that she needed a wee and noticed the 2 mugs beside Strike on the cabinet.   
She’d apparently drunk tea, which presumably Strike had made for her, but she had no recollection of how she’d got from the hospital to her flat.   
Her memory had been of being wheeled on a bed in a hospital gown into a theatre and then she dimly recollected a doctor accompanying her to some transport to get her home.  
She thought she might have had a conversation with him too….but Strike’s role in all of it was a mystery to her.

It was nice that he was there now though….he’d presumably been making sure she didn’t puke or fall over, and fallen asleep. 

She gingerly shifted around on the bed and stood slowly, just to be sure her legs were not too wobbly.   
Feeling OK she visited the loo and got herself a drink of orange juice, returning to her bed to find that Strike had slumped slightly across the bed and his head was now almost resting on her pillows.

He looked slightly squashed up and uncomfortable, and she knew that he shouldn’t keep his leg on all night. Somehow the sight of him in her bed was not as alarming as she’d have thought, and the man had clearly given up his Friday night to make sure she was OK.

He looked ridiculously sexy actually.  
Slightly drooling, making a noise like a lawnmower and flailing out a large, hairy hand across the now vacant space beside him…..yep…..he was definitely the man she wanted!

Robin had removed her bra whilst visiting the loo – she’d unclasped it, slipped each strap down her arm and pulled it out from the neck of her top. She hadn’t bothered swapping to one of her sleep shirts though.  
She vaguely recalled telling the paramedic or doctor, or whoever had brought her home about Cormoran…..had she mentioned his arse?   
He did have a lovely arse...and it was currently nestled on her duvet!

The concept of snuggling down in bed with his face close to hers on the pillows was impishly exciting to her, so she carefully got back under the duvet on ‘her side’ of the bed and lay down looking at him as he slept.  
“I wish you’d notice me,” she barely whispered, reaching across and stroking her fingertip tantalisingly softly against his cheek.

Strike gave a sudden twitch beside her and without opening his eyes mumbled, “Shhhhh, just go'sleep,” before tilting his chin slightly and making contact with the smooth skin of her forehead.

The unexpected softness of his voice, lips and the ridiculously erotic warmth of his breath and body beside her in bed suddenly flicked a switch inside Robin and she lifted her face seeking out his mouth with her own……if this was going to go wrong she could chalk it up to the effects of anaesthetic!

After a second she felt him kissing her back as her lips and tongue gently explored his.   
Her hand threaded through his disastrous curls and urged him to linger. 

“Robin?” he whispered against her insistent mouth, “You’re not thinking straight Robin……you’ve had a load of drugs……oh God……you think I’m a doctor……mmmmmhhmmm.”

He wanted to stop; he should definitely stop this……she was clearly still under the effects of drugs…..but her tongue was in his mouth and it felt amazing.

His own hands had slid into her hair, cupping her small skull and – he’d tell himself later attempted to pull her mouth away – positioning her face perfectly so that he could take full advantage of being in this position with her.   
He’d investigate his conscience later.

“Just take your leg off and stay will you,” she hissed after what felt like a blissful eternity of them locked together.  
Strike abruptly pulled back, “Wait! You mean….you don’t think I’m a doctor anymore?”  
“What do you mean ‘anymore’?” Robin squirmed herself closer to his warmth and broad chest and trailed her fingers down the placket of his shirt, snagging her fingers into one of the gaps.  
“Fuck it! Long story…...I have to very closely observe you for the after effects of anaesthesia…..and if this all goes to cock in the morning that’s what I’m sticking with…..come ‘ere!”


End file.
